


A Parental Introduction

by meshkol (ashernorton)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Embarrassed Peter Parker, M/M, Parent Tony Stark, Parent/Teacher Conferences, Supremefamily, The Cloak Loves Tony, Unbeta'd, parenting at its best, stephen is a troll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashernorton/pseuds/meshkol
Summary: Tony Stark gets a call from May Parker that brightens up his whole day: attend Peter's parent/teacher conference in her stead.  Tony is sold, and dials up his exuberant, dramatic inner child to eleven Because Of Reasons.Stephen and Peter are not amused.





	A Parental Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a hilarious prompt from the discord by [starkstruckus](https://starkstruckus.tumblr.com/). Went a tad bit...er...wild. Oops.

May calls during an SI board meeting, the ‘ _Oh Pretty Woman_ ’ cover by Van Halen interrupting the bickering.

Tony, being himself and bored out of his mind, jumps up with a faux-sheepish grin and says, “Sorry, guys, Avengers calling—”  Which isn’t _exactly_ a lie, because May is still Spider-Man’s legal guardian and Tony keeps her in the loop as much as is advisable.  “—so just brief Pepper and she’ll give me the relevant info on the merger.  Gotta go, see ya!”

Pepper doesn’t say a word, instead turning to the rest of the board members with a smile, but he can tell by the tightness of her eyes that she’s concerned.  After all, she’s fully aware that that song is for May, and May never calls Tony unless it’s an emergency.

As soon as the door’s shut behind him, he answers his mobile.  “Hey May, for what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your lovely voice this afternoon?”

He can hear honking from New York traffic as well as the loud swearing of some guy (Tony thinks he’s speaking Bengali?) that’s probably the taxi driver.  Over the din, May says in a frantic tone without even a hello, “I got out of work late and on top of that there’s a massive car accident in Manhattan that we can’t get through.  Peter has a parent-teacher conference at his school in twenty minutes and I’m not going to be able to make it.”

“Ooh, I’ll go,” Tony says with a grin, excited for three very different reasons.  The first is because he adores embarrassing Peter, because it’s what dads do, and Tony can be _very embarrassing indeed_ when he’s motivated.  The second is because Tony’s never gotten to embarrass Peter in front of his classmates before, since in the beginning Tony had been too busy to go to his school and was standoffish out of self-preservation, and later on because Peter forbade him from coming (because again, Tony loves embarrassing him).  The third is because Tony and May have been going back and forth about Tony legally adopting Peter – an absentminded joke that’s turned into a genuine yearning in Tony’s heart for almost a year now – and this will be more ammunition on the ‘This Is A Great Idea’ presentation that Tony’s been building in his lab.

There’s going to be fireworks involved.  Lots and lots of fireworks.

(The original plan had included actual explosions, but he figures that May’ll claim he’s endangering a child and use that against him during her counter-argument.)

“Oh thank God,” May breathes in relief.  “Don’t get me wrong: I’d much rather be there myself, but work won’t let me off again and you’ll probably understand that math and science mumbo-jumbo better than I will anyway.  Can you get there in time?  He’ll be in the gym with all the other students.”

The grin on Tony’s face widens into something truly diabolical.  He can’t actually get to MSST in Queens in twenty minutes, even with the suit (ATC is a bitch to get around when there’s not a calamity going on, and Tony doesn’t want to push his luck any farther than the three miles to Greenwich Village), but fortunately for May, Tony has a boyfriend named Stephen Strange.  “Don’t sweat it, May; I’ll get there with ten minutes to spare.”  Tony taps the reactor and activates his nanotech, quickly heading towards Pepper’s office around the corner so he can fly off to the New York Sanctum.  He’s been waiting for the moment where he can blast out of there, having retrofitted her office with a remotely-operated window that opens with a simple command.  The suit covers his body in its usual quick progression, and Tony’s phone switches to his helmet seamlessly so he can add, “Gotta go, May.  I’ll give Peter your best.”

“Don’t embarrass him too badly, Tony,” she warns as he triggers the window to open.

“No promises, sweetcheeks,” he quips in return, hangs up on her laughter, and then takes off.

—

Tony lands on the pavement in front of the Sanctum with aplomb, mask going up automatically.

There’s the usual surprised gasps and excited shrieking from the pedestrians of Greenwich Village, but he doesn’t stop this time to sign autographs or pose for pictures.  He’s on a mission and he only has seven (well, six and a half if he doesn’t want to be late) minutes to convince Stephen to put down whatever dusty relic or crumbling book he’s studying.  Still though, the box of doughnuts he bought at Peter’s favourite shop here is totally a good excuse for his tight timeline.

He throws open the door and calls out, “Honey, I’m home!”

And as per usual, the apprentices mulling about in his line of sight all roll their eyes in tandem.

“We’re busy Stark,” he hears Stephen call out from somewhere upstairs, sounding distracted.  Tony immediately beelines for the stairs in search of his boyfriend as said boyfriend continues, “Can you come back later?  Like, when we’re not in the middle of trying to unravel the magic around a dangerous artefact found in an old Mayan temple?”

Tony catches sight of him right next to some huge staff-looking thing that is spewing out yellow sparks randomly as Stephen and a few apprentices prod at it with magical strings.  It illuminates Stephen’s face with golden light, and Tony takes a few seconds just to drink in the sight of him.  Stephen’s unconventionally handsome, the almost alien lines of his face sharp and unforgiving to most, but Tony’s utterly enamoured with him.  Tony’ll be the first to admit that he’s first and foremost attracted to Stephen because of his brain and how he uses it, but god _damn_ if Tony’s not googly-eyed over Stephen’s physical features too.

He snaps out of it rather quickly though, because he’s things to do and not a lot of time to waste.  Instead, he ignores Stephen’s words and says, “May can’t make it to Peter’s parent-teacher conference at four-thirty.  She’s asked me to go.”

Stephen looks up, eyes Tony, eyes his watch, eyes Tony again, and then sighs.  “You can’t make it to Queens in time, so I’m guessing you’re here for a portal?”

“Preferably right into the gymnasium,” Tony replies with a wicked grin.  “I want to make a scene.”

Stephen rolls his eyes, then shakes his hands as if flinging off water.  The reddish-gold strings coming from his fingertips dissipate immediately and he unfolds his long legs, touching down gently on the ground.  It’s elegant and graceful and Tony normally would drag Stephen into the closest broom cupboard if he wasn’t so ready for his (overly dramatic) introduction into Peter’s school life.  All those little shits that tease Peter about making up his internship are going to _weep_ , and Peter’ll get over the embarrassment of Tony steamrolling into MSST like a raging bull.

Probably.

“Okay, that settles it,” Stephen says lowly, looking exasperated and resigned.  It’s Stephen’s default expression, so Tony just snickers under his breath, already having a good idea where this is going.  He’s praying that he’s not misreading it, because the possibilities are _glorious_.  Stephen continues, “Go get Master Clemens and tell him to secure the artefact – I have to make sure that Stark doesn’t give the kid an embolism.  I’ll be back in an hour.”

Tony squashes down the urge to punch his fist in the air and shout in glee, mostly because he’s still wearing the suit and this _particular_ nanotech prototype he’s testing sometimes reads excitement as adrenaline spikes related to danger.  Last thing he needs is to blow a hole in the roof of the Sanctum.  The last time Tony accidentally blew a hole in something (the side of Stephen’s bedroom in the Sanctum, actually, which had nearly caused ‘An Incident’, but to be fair Stephen has a sinful mouth and had cloned himself so...yeah, Tony thinks it was totally justified), Stephen had ignored his calls for a week and refused to sleep with him for two.  Which was literal torture, and Tony has a healthy, extremely justified hatred of torture.

Instead, he just grins and allows the mask to fall back into place.  Stephen lets out an exaggeratedly histrionic, mock-suffering sigh as he urges his twitching menace of a cloak to _stay put, dammit, you aren’t coming with us you insufferable piece of fabric_ , but Tony doesn’t buy it.  Stephen may be a deadpan, stone-faced little shit most of the time, but the sorcerer has a wicked side too.  Tony’s seen it in action (usually in bed), and he utterly adores it.

Seriously.  It’s like Stephen Strange was _made_ for Tony, and _fuck_ Tony loves him.  To this day he doesn’t quite understand how he got so goddamn lucky, able to wake up and fall asleep next to that magnificent human being after the legendary clusterfuck of his life.

“Are you actually wearing the suit?” Stephen questions as he lifts his hands up to magic up the portal.

Tony glances at the time that FRIDAY automatically displays on his HUD – five minutes and some change until the appointment with one of Peter’s teachers, and that’s more than enough time to wreak havoc – and replies in the slightly metallic sound of his suit’s speaker, “Obviously.  This is as flashy as I can get without hiring those dancers from that last Expo and setting off explosions; let me have my fun, old man.”

Stephen rolls his eyes again, and one day his eyes are going to just roll back into his head and stick there, even if it’s not actually possible.  Stephen and his fancy magic tricks defy the laws of physics (for now at least, but Tony’ll crack it eventually), so it’s a perfectly legitimate concern.  After all, Tony quite likes Stephen’s eyes.  They’re temperamental and can’t make up their mind on what colour they’re supposed to be, which is mostly because of the heterochromia iridium but also because Stephen is so extra that even his eyes have to make a statement.

“You’re four years older than me, so who’re you calling ‘old’, arsehole?” Stephen quips in a flat drone, his hands already starting to weave his golden runes for the portal.

“I’m younger in spirit,” Tony parries back, moving beside his boyfriend and ruffling Stephen’s perfectly coiffed hair.  It earns him a glare, but Tony’s just smiles innocently beneath his mask and adds, “And watch your language; we’re going to a _school_ , you monster.”

Stephen groans, but doesn’t reply, as suddenly there’s an open portal, and on the other side there’s a crowd of teenagers gaping at them.

Tony doesn’t even hesitate: he simply puffs up to his advanced height (God he loves his suit) and struts his happy arse into that auditorium like he owns it.  Stephen follows and closes the portal after taking a few seconds to smooth his hair back into place, but it’s more of a resigned drag of his feet.  Of course, he still looks tall and composed and all that posh veneer, but Tony knows Stephen Strange better than almost everyone and he can tell when Stephen’s reluctantly obliging him of his eccentricities, if only to minimise the collateral damage.

“Afternoon!” Tony greets loudly, then lets the nanotech recede from his face yet again.  He ignores a few shrieks, the chorus of gasps, and the _click_ of cameras that finally start echoing around the gymnasium and continues, “Nothing to worry about.  Just two eccentric superheroes here, prepared to do their fatherly duty—”  Stephen groans again.  “—for the benefit of our special, _special_ boy.  Now, stop hiding from your parents and come give your dear ‘ole dads a hug.”

Peter doesn’t respond, and Tony can’t find him through the HUD since his mask is receded and he doesn’t want to get out of his suit (yet) to dig his glasses out.  Thankfully, Ned is a darling, because he calls out with an exuberant wave, “He’s over here, Mr Stark!”

Tony beams, gives Ned a wink, and then makes his way past gaping students and parents.  He stops in front of the wooden, tiered stands, mentally calculates whether the cheap school seats will hold up to the suit, and then decides not to risk it.  There are way too many kids sitting in this section, and the last thing he needs is a lawsuit or angry parents.

As if he reads Tony’s mind, Stephen says, “You’ll break the bleachers in that thing.  Leave it at embarrassment and draw the line at injuring schoolchildren.”

Tony huffs, rather put out because he’d been looking forward to lounging haphazardly in his suit, eating doughnuts and ribbing Peter, but obligingly activates the recession of his nanotech, leaving him in his usual type of clothes he wears to SI board meetings: soft charcoal grey trousers, red Led Zeppelin shirt with a white long-sleeved undershirt pushed up to his elbows, black leather jacket, and Lanvin high-tops.  He looks hot and knows it, especially when he notices Stephen subtly check out his arse (to be fair, Tony’s arse looks _fantastic_ in these trousers, if he says so himself), and Tony can’t help but preen.  All it does is make Stephen exhale throughout his nose as if 1000% done, stern expression back on his face that’d fool anyone except Tony, who can see the spark of appreciation in his boyfriend’s glasz eyes.

Once the nanotech is all but gone, Tony weaves his way through parents and their kids, posing for every selfie with a peace sign and his trademarked PR smile.  Stephen bypasses the schmoozing entirely, unsurprisingly, sparing his admirers a cordially polite but standoffish smile as he makes his way to Peter, Ned, and a girl that Peter _totally_ has a crush on but won’t admit to it.  Michelle, Tony remembers.  MJ for short.  Salty and deadpan and smart and definitely a winner in Tony’s view.  Much better than the previous girl with the mob boss dad.

The closer he gets to Peter, the more he hears Peter’s mortified, high-pitched whispers.  They’re mostly along the lines of _oh my God why is he doing this_ and _he is so embarrassing and why is this my life_ , but Tony’s tickled that he hears him plead, “Mr Strange, please tell me you’re here to keep him from doing anything too embarrassing.”

He’s even more delighted when Stephen just sighs for the umpteenth time and replies lowly, “Have you _met_ Tony Stark?  He’s an unstoppable force of nature and save another alien invasion or Ross breaking out of prison, he’s going to continue being a menace to society.”

“I heard that,” Tony quips as he flops down, balancing the box of doughnuts before opening it.  “Considering how mean you’re both being to me, I’m only going to share with Ned.  He’s officially my favourite.”

“Yes!” Ned cries, already reaching for a pastry.

“But those are from Pam’s!” Peter protests, looking wounded.  “You _know_ you bought those for me!”

“Doughnuts are disgusting,” Michelle says flatly, and Tony can’t really read her expression.  She could be happy as a clam, or totally mellow, or even plotting world domination, and Tony wouldn’t be able to figure it out until after she’d acted.

“That’s a blatant lie,” Stephen adds under his breath, and then leans closer to breathe into Tony’s ear, “I can do that thing with my mouth that makes you scream.”

Tony shoots him a glare, because now is _not_ the time to get a stiffy for fuck’s sake.  Though, to be fair, it’s true – the things Stephen Strange can do with his mouth (and the rest of his body, honestly) is _obscene_.  Tony had considered himself rather inventive in bed, with a fair few kinks he indulged in with a willing partner-of-the-night, but Stephen is in another league of his own.  He practically needs to come with a warning label that says ‘If You Sleep With Me, Prepare To Be Tied Up And Sexually Tortured (In A Fun Way)’.

“I show you screaming tonight, Strange,” Tony hisses back, thankful for the almost overwhelming amount of noise in the gym and the fact that he doesn’t blush easily.  He’s done way too much shit in his life to be phased at public dirty talk, even in front of a room of children.

“Promises, promises,” Stephen teases, eyes sparking with amusement even though his face is as impassive as ever.  Tony sort of wants to kiss him in front of everyone, just so he can ruffle up that iron composure, but he figures that he’ll get escorted out by security if he does that.  They’ve never been able to stop once they get going, because they’ve only been dating for about three months and they’re still in the honeymoon phase.  An indecent amount of sex comes with new relationships, and besides, neither one of them are really been known for denying themselves anything.

The amount of space they both take up in a built-in wardrobe alone required demolishing the wall between Tony’s bedroom and the neighbouring sitting room, and then revamping _the whole sitting room_ into a wardrobe (and even that is tight, really).

In any case, they’re both unfamiliar with quelling impulses, and therefore Tony pushes away the intoxicating thought of kissing him in public in exchange for ruffling his hair.  Again.

Predictably, Stephen scowls and says, “If you do that again, I’m sending you to Antarctica in just your skin.”

“Rude,” Tony replies with a pout, though there’s no real upset in it.  Then he turns to Peter, who’s actually starting to sink into his seat, and says seriously, “You can only have a doughnut if you give me a hug.  I’m feeling really neglected here, and you know how I get when I feel neglected.  I tend to act out in self-defence.”

“You are the literal worst,” Peter complains, but obligingly hugs Tony with one arm.  Tony can see that _Peter’s_ starting to blush, the little softie, and there’s a gentle, almost shy smile on his lips, which causes a surge of affection in Tony’s heart and chest.  God, but he loves this kid so much, and he will move mountains and planets to keep Peter Parker happy and safe and alive.

And if anyone doubts that, then they can ask Thanos (who’s very much _dead_ now, courtesy of a furious and vengeful Anthony Edward Stark, _thank you very fucking much_ ) his opinion on the matter.

Tony squeezes back, lets Peter go, and then hands him the box with a quick “Here ya go, kid.”  Peter picks out a strawberry one, practically inhales it, and then hums in contentment, already reaching for a second.  Tony remembers being a teenager and the never-ending hunger that comes with puberty and growing up, but even Tony hadn’t eaten that much at Peter’s age.  Despite Peter’s Enhanced abilities, Tony has no idea where he fits it all.

“So is Aunt May okay?” Peter finally asks but judging by the fact that he’s already picking out a third doughnut – Boston crème this time – and shoving half of it in his mouth, Tony doesn’t figure he’s too concerned.  That’s fair, considering that Tony would’ve called Peter if there had been an accident, or would’ve been out kicking some _serious_ arse if she was in trouble.  He adores May, even if they poke at each other with sticks on a regular basis about Peter, and even if Peter wasn’t so enormously important to Tony that he had literally beaten Thanos to death with his own gauntlet in revenge (before using it to undo Thanos’s actions), Tony would still go out of his way to keep her safe, for Peter’s peace of mind.

“She’s fine,” Tony replies, snagging a blueberry one and taking a big bite.  Through his mouthful, he mumbles, “She got stuck in traffic in Manhattan and couldn’t make it, and she said I was the best option for your teacher meeting anyway.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Stephen deadpans, staring at Tony’s mouth like he’s a bizarre, slightly disgusting alien.  “And chew your food before talking, you heathen.”

Michelle and Peter laugh, the traitors.  A handsome man beside Michelle chokes and hisses at his daughter to _stop laughing at Tony Stark MJ_ , and oh, that’s her _dad_.  Huh.  To be polite to his future daughter-in-law’s father, Tony swallows his bite and pushes out his clean right hand, giving the man a winning smile.  “I don’t think we’ve met.  I’m Tony.  I think our kids are _friends_ , if you know what I mean.”  He adds a few eyebrow wiggles in for pizzazz too because Tony’s quite proud of his eyebrow game, and there’s nothing wrong than over-the-top insinuations.  He’s here to embarrass Peter, after all.

“Mr Stark!” Peter practically wails, and he’s genuinely starting to resemble a tomato.  It’s a startling likeness to his suit, and if Peter decides to go into that phase where he wears copious amounts of black eyeliner, he’ll be pinged as Spider-Man in about two seconds flat with that distinctive voice of his.  He’ll have to warn Peter about the possibility once they’re done here.

Even Michelle looks a bit embarrassed, which Tony thinks is cute; Peter’s probably going to attack him like a rabid cat once they’re out of this place, but the fact that even the cool-and-collected Michelle is a bit flushed in the cheeks at the implication of her and Peter being more than friends is hilarious.

Funnily enough, Michelle’s dad snorts (Michelle gapes at him as if betrayed, which is _karma_ for laughing at Stephen’s comment) and replies, “Yeah, _friends_.  I’m David Jones, Michelle’s father.”  It’s said with a surprising lack of breathless awe, which is the general MO when Tony meets new people (especially since he’d come out as Iron Man), and his approval for being related by marriage to the Joneses increases exponentially.  Tony likes getting a lot of attention and he’s an infamous press whore, but he still likes when people treat him like he’s just a person sometimes, especially when it’s someone he’s going to have to establish a rapport or relationship with.

“This is my partner and Peter’s other dad, Doctor Stephen Strange,” Tony introduces after they separate hands, watching closely for any hint of disapproval (because even in New York, there are homophobes).  He’s pleased when David just smiles, shaking Stephen’s offered hand with a quick “Nice to meet you” exchanged between them.  Once those two disconnect, Tony glances at Stephen and receives an almost invisible nod in silent reply; Tony’s relieved at the confirmation that David didn’t grip Stephen’s hand firmly, like he did with Tony, because Stephen’s hands are still pretty delicate.

Tony opens his mouth to wisecrack something else that’ll further embarrass the teenagers when he suddenly hears a squeak, a cough, and then the stutter of a few chopped words that might or might not be Peter’s name, which results in a hushed fit of giggling by the surrounding eavesdropping teenagers.  Tony looks down, where a professionally dressed woman with a clipboard is standing, looking quite pale and overwhelmed, and smiles winningly.  Unfortunately, that makes the paleness disappear into a raging inferno that appears to be a blush but might actually be a spontaneous sunburn.  He’s seen weirder things happen, though it’s unlikely that she’s anything other than embarrassed at her inability to speak.

“Mrs Baker, hi!” Peter chirps after he swallows a mouthful of chocolate-covered fried dough.  “Is it our turn?”

The woman – Mrs Baker – clears her throat, tries again to speak, and Tony can’t help but joke, “Wow, we haven't said a word and we've already screwed this up.”

When Mrs Baker starts to turn purple in mortification, Stephen shakes his head in exasperation and stands up, heading down to the poor woman.  Tony follows, and Stephen quite pointedly puts himself in front of Tony as if trying to hide him from Mrs Baker’s view.  Which is ridiculous, because even though Tony’s a bit... _vertically challenged_ in comparison to the rest of the Avengers (and other unassociated superheroes), he probably outweighs Stephen by forty pounds of solid muscle.  Then again, Tony doesn’t really blame Stephen for trying to be a barrier between the nice lady and Tony himself – Tony’s so used to being around people that either understand or tolerate his sense of humour (friends, faux-family, and the press alike) that he sometimes forgets that not everyone will respond to his usual sarcastic wit with amusement or an annoyed eye roll.

“Please excuse Doctor Stark,” Stephen apologises like some sort of gentleman, which he most certainly _is not_ , the little weasel.  Tony _hates_ being called ‘doctor’ and Stephen knows it.  “He was likely dropped on his head as a child and as a result, we can’t bring him out in public without him causing a scene.”

Tony scoffs, then shoots Peter a look because the traitor snickers again from the stands and Tony’s actually starting to regret allowing those two to bond.  While he loves that his little family is expanding, and that Peter accepts Stephen – because Tony would cut Stephen out of his life completely if Peter asked him to, despite how much Tony loves the man – he doesn’t appreciate that they’re starting to gang up on him.

Even if some of it’s warranted, he’s definitely going to need to partake in some good old-fashioned revenge, sooner rather than later.

“It’s fine!” Mrs Baker squeaks, then seems to pull herself together.  Somewhat.  She still looks like she is going to spontaneously combust, and the colour of her face clashes with her bright copper hair and freckles, but her face somewhat smooths out in an admirable show of professionalism despite her embarrassment.  “Please, follow me, and I’ll direct you to Ms Davison, who’s going to be going over Mr Parker’s grades and conduct in his classes.”

Stephen nods and begins following the teacher?  Principle?  Some other administrator?  Tony really doesn’t like not knowing these things and resolves to do a background check at the earliest available opportunity.  It doesn’t hurt to know who’s teaching and mentoring Peter (besides himself, of course), and he’s a bit miffed that he’s forgotten to do it until this very moment.  Some dad he is – hell, one parent of a fellow student has already tried to _kill_ Peter, and Tony really should be more proactive about these things.

Hiding his internal self-flagellation with a monumental effort, Tony decides to strut out of the gymnasium, waving and giving peace signs to all the chattering students and parents, calling out loudly behind his shoulder, “We’ll be back in a jiffy, Peter!  Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

He hears Peter’s squeak even in the din, and his last sight of Peter is his son getting positively _swarmed_ by his classmates and their parents.

The door closes behind him and they follow the whatever-Mrs-Baker-is down numerous corridors until they arrive at a classroom door.  They’re invited inside, given a high-pitched “Ms Davison will see you now!”, and then they’re left at the whims of Peter’s homeroom teacher.

Mrs Davison is the stereotypical teacher: older woman, kind face, a bit plump, and dressed conservatively.  She motions at two chairs and sits down in the third, picking up a folder with shaking hands.  Tony’s not sure if it’s nerves that’s causing it or just age, but he decided to attempt to alleviate any potential anxiety by saying politely, “I’m Tony, Peter’s dad, and this is Stephen, his other dad.  Peter’s aunt, May, unfortunately got stuck in traffic and could make it today, so we’ll parry any info that she needs to know later today?  How’s our little precious little pumpkin doing in school?”

Mrs Davison smiles, her hands relaxing a bit (so it _had_ been nerves!), and she opens the folder to ruffle through papers with thin, delicate, aged fingers.  “He’s doing marvellously, grades-wise, other than a few late homework assignments, according to his teachers.  His work is impeccable, and he’s a top student here in the technological components.  Is that your doing, Mr Stark?”

“Totally,” Tony preens, while Stephen interjects smoothly, “There’s no biological relation, and despite the popular misconception, Peter’s actually smarter than Doctor Stark.”

“Bite me,” Tony grumbles.

“I’ll collect later, and with interest,” Stephen replies absently.  Tony huffs in a mixture of amusement and annoyance because it’s like Stephen is _deliberately_ riling—oh.  Right.  Well.  Tony can totally let Stephen’s quips get to him then.  Fake-angry sex is _awesome_ , and Stephen does tend get cheeky in that stone-faced way he does when he’s particularly randy.

Tony allows that delicious thought to roll around in his head for approximately half a second before he snaps back to attention, because Peter’s his top priority, not his libido for fuck’s sake.  And besides, Stephen’s comment has made the poor teacher spill her papers in surprise, shock, embarrassment, or perhaps even horror.  He figures it’s one of the former three though (and Tony would put money on the third one), because Mrs Davison is starting to turn pink as well, and this is actually starting to become a habit when they’re together around people they don’t know, actually.

“Oh my goodness, my apologies!” Mrs Davison exclaims, but before she even get out of her chair to pick the papers off the floor, Stephen’s already doing his thing: activating his Sling Ring, enveloping all of the papers in a gentle gold-and-red sparkle, and raising them up with just a movement of his hands, the pages softly floating to Mrs Davison until she reaches for them and secures them with her shaking hands.

Tony rolls his eyes, full of fond exasperation at Stephen’s showing off.  Man after Tony’s heart, indeed.

“Thank you,” she squeaks, the pink of her cheeks rather lovely against her paper-thin skin and the dark grey hair falling around her face, and she ruffles the papers back together in shaky, disjointed movements.  Tony eyes her shrewdly though, because he’s seen bright eyes and jittery moments before on people, and he totally recognises adoration when he sees it.  And he’s seen a lot of it in his life, though admittedly Mrs Davison seems to be eyeing Stephen rather than Tony.

Tony grins mischievously, side-eyeing Stephen (who looks just as impassive as ever) as the sorcerer asks flatly, “You said that Peter’s been missing assignments?”

“Oh!” Mrs Davison says, flushing even deeper and looking down at the papers.  “Why yes, he certainly has, but while our school has a strict policy on missed homework, we also do allow students to turn missed assignments within twenty-four hours of the due date should they miss it, for a reduced grade.  Mr Parker, when he does miss assignments – and I assure you that this is a _rare_ occurrence, Doctor Strange – is impeccable about turning it in within the twenty-four deadline for a twenty percent reduction.  Combined with his usual brilliant test scores and the vast majority of his homework assignments being turned in on time with superb grades, the impact of his missed assignments is marginal at best, and to be quite honest, he’s a great deal less likely to slack off than his peers.”

Tony so _dearly_ wants to say ‘ _Well, what’s the big deal with some missed homework then?  Kid’s an Avenger, and as long as he has a high enough GPA to get into whatever uni he wants, I say let him miss a few lessons without any fuss_.’  However, he knows that that’s generally Frowned Upon by most adults, especially teachers, and Stephen himself is a stickler for schooling.

Predictably, said sorcerer says, “This is highly concerning.  His internship with Stark Industries is most likely the reason behind his missed homework; if this happens again, you must contact his aunt and myself immediately so we can set up an intervention.  School is, of course, his top-most priority.”

“Why, that is just the right attitude, dear – just what I like to hear from parents of impressionable children,” Mrs Davison, and there are practically stars in her eyes now.

Tony is a little irritated at both of them now, Mrs Davison for all but undressing Stephen with her eyes and Stephen for _daring_ to suggest an intervention over a few missed assignments, and demands, “What’s his GPA?”

Mrs Davison barely glances at him but recites dutifully, “3.72, Doctor Stark.”

Tony rolls his eyes so hard that even his _head_ even rolls with it.  “Oh my God,” he gripes, throwing up his hands and glaring at his boyfriend.  “He has an A-minus average, for Christ’s sake.  Cut the kid some slack, why don’t you?”  Mrs Davison looks at Tony severely then, obviously disapproving, but he’s not concerned with her (she’s totally on Tony’s shit-list now) because Stephen must hear the steel in Tony’s voice.  He gives Tony a wide-eyed look of genuine surprise as Tony continues with no-nonsense, “We’re not taking away an internship with the biggest technological and pharmaceutical company on this planet because he has an A-minus.  Jesus, you two, take a chill pill.”  Of course, Stephen hears what Tony’s not really saying: _we’re not taking away his suit or lab liberties over an A-minus, no fucking way_.

“I’m not talking about taking it away,” Stephen says, placing a scarred hand on Tony’s knee so he can squeeze the bone reassuringly.  “I’m talking about giving him the option: decreased hours with the internship if he doesn’t turn in his homework.  MIT isn’t going to accept anyone but the best, and you know he won’t want you to pull strings to get him a slot.  If it’s so rare, then it shouldn’t exactly be a hardship to ask him to take one more step and take a little more time with his work.”  And Tony hears what Stephen’s not really saying: _I have the Time Stone; if he needs more time, I’ll make sure he gets it, just like I do when he’s pulled an all-nighter_.

Tony’s satisfied, and even though he still thinks this whole thing is mental, he’s still fully aware that Peter’ll have his balls if he buys him into university, so intervention it is (though, if Tony’s completely honest with himself, he’ll probably end up folding if Peter gives him the puppy dog eyes because Tony can’t resist them).  He nods at Stephen, who returns his agreement with another squeeze before removing his hand, focussing all of his attention once again to Mrs Davison.

The rest of the meeting is relatively standard.  Peter doesn’t have a lot of friends (though he’ll sure as shit have some _now_ , Tony figures, making a mental note to give Peter a lesson on spotting fakers) but other than some occasional bullying (which Tony resolves to _obliterate_ for the sheer cheek of bulling _his_ son), he’s pretty well-adjusted and comfortable in his environment; he excels in classes, especially the technical ones, but his problem class is English (though Tony wouldn’t consider a 91% in the class a _problem_ ); he doesn’t offer help to fellow classmates and keeps to himself instead of raising his class in hand (which sounds like Tony back in school, to be honest); and he’s still active in a few extra curriculars like his academic decathlon team and engineering club.

There’s only a few more moments where Mrs Davison gets all starry-eyed when Stephen says something pedantic and... _scholarly_ , the damned nerd (and that’s saying a lot, coming from Tony-fucking-Stark); other than those moments, she’s professional and courteous, even-tempered and kind.  Tony wants to like her, and a part of him actually does, but he also tends to go a bit green-eyed à la Bruce Banner when people eye _his_ man like they want to eat him up (and she totally has the hots for Stephen, bless her heart).  While Tony knows that Mrs Davison doesn’t have a chance in hell – without even bringing in her low-speed lifestyle, the big and aged diamond on her ring finger, and the fact that she’s about forty years too old for him, Stephen’s all but queer, Christine his only exception, and therefore she doesn’t really have the right equipment for Stephen’s fancy – he can’t really can’t help the urge to puff up and stake his claim like some sort of wild savage.

And Tony’s very proud of his enlightenment, being a _Man of Science_ , thanks-ever-so; he doesn’t need to be a caveman because they’re already gone for each other.

As they’re walking back to the gymnasium, Tony teases with a hint of petulance, “She wanted those magical hands of yours, if you know what I mean.”

Stephen rolls his eyes.  “Shut up, _Doctor Stark_.”

Tony shoves him playfully, laughing delightedly when Stephen narrows his eyes in challenge, murmurs under his breath, and weaves a few dramatic hand signs, a portal opening in the middle of the goddamn MSST corridor.  The few teachers and parents who’re in the corridor all pause to watch them play, and Tony’s own eyes narrow as well, his brain trying to figure out what Stephen is up t—

“Shit!” Tony exclaims, eyes widening as he activates his nanotech and bolts towards the gymnasium.

Stephen’s cloak is a _menace_ , and Tony’s never been sure if its fascination with his person is because Tony’d saved Stephen’s life (after Stephen had saved his on Titan) and brought back its favourite human, or if it’s because the cloak’s simply bonded to him the same way it did with Stephen.  In any case, the cloak is something that has to be monitored closely when they’re not in the middle of some fight with the supervillain flavour of the day.  That’s because it has a tendency to attack Tony constantly, practically suffocating him as it wraps around his body like a leech, literally _vibrating_ with pleasure.

Which, of course, can be problematic if Tony’s a bit...er... _wired up_ , because _fuck_ those vibrations feel good against his hard—

The nanites aren’t quite finished extending but Tony’s already activated a low-level propulsion (he doesn’t want to cause any damage to a school), flying through the corridor haphazardly so he can keep his distance.  He _can’t_ let that little shit get a hold of him, because it’s _embarrassing_ to be embraced by a sentient piece of fabric, and he’s going to _murder_ his boyfriend for putting him in this situation.  After all, it’s a pretty common comment that Tony looks ‘adorable’ and ‘smol’ when he’s getting engulfed in the Cloak of Levitation, and he refuses on basic principle to be seen like that in front of people that _aren’t_ his makeshift family and close friends.

The only good thing about this is that it’s sure to embarrass Peter too, since he’ll see it for what it is: Stephen’s bizarre flirting ritual.

With that thought, he bursts through the doors of the gymnasium and yells, “Peter, time to go!”

He uses various evasive manoeuvres that he can actually accomplish in the bigger space, and even though he’s concentrating on not getting coddled in his Iron Man suit by an affectionate piece of fabric in front of all these StarkPhones, he still keeps an eye on his smirking boyfriend and his mortified son.  Peter’s already jumping up and running to Stephen’s side, yelping, “You brought the Cloak?  Mr Strange, _why_?!”

“He pushed me,” Stephen says simply, his smirk sharp and dangerous, and as soon as Tony’s shaken off his pursuer, he’s going to tear that bastard’s clothes off and fuck into him like a goddamn _animal_.  “Ready to go?” he asks, but he’s already making another portal without waiting for Peter’s reply.

“Sure!” Peter replies, but it’s more of a whinge, his face bright red.  “Bye, Ned, bye MJ, I’ll see you tomorrow!”  Once the portal’s open, he hastily jogs through it, and Tony waits until he’s out of the way before he makes a sharp turn and beelines towards the portal himself.

As he flies towards safety, he says loudly, “This has been a friendly visit from two resident superheroes!  Feel free to post on YouTube and leave nasty comments about how Stephen Strange is _evil_!” and then he disappears through the portal into the training room of the Avenger’s compound, already racing towards the doorway so he can slam said door in that fucking cloak’s ‘face’.

Despite the cloak, he figures that their trip has been successful.  In _spades_.


End file.
